The Blue Door

13



THE PARTY GIRL



Koji edged closer to Abner, wriggling his toes in the soft grass of their garden sanctuary while he waited to be noticed. The silver-haired angel stood in a veritable cloud of yahavim; the little angels dipped and spiraled around the Caretaker, vying for his attention. Once each bright member of his flock had been counted and coddled, Abner turned his attention to the young loiterer. “What is it, Koji?”

“May I ask a favor?”

Abner clasped his hands behind his back. “You may ask.”

Koji nodded solemnly. This was the way of Caretakers, whose powers were awe-inspiring. “I have a friend …” he began nervously.

“Do you now?” Abner gently prompted.

“Prissie,” Koji replied breathlessly.

Abner chose a seat at the base of a tree and beckoned for the boy to join him. “Why don’t you start by telling me more about your friend?” he invited.

With a grateful smile, Koji did just that.


Early on the morning of Margery’s birthday party, a soft tap sounded at Prissie’s bedroom door. “Who is it?” she called quietly.

“Koji. May I come in?”

“I guess,” she replied, sitting up in bed and pulling her blankets close.

He slipped into the room and carefully closed the door before whispering, “I have something for you!” Plunking down in the center of her rug, he proudly displayed a small apple basket mounded with distinctively blushing apples.

“Are those from Great-grandma Mae’s trees?”

Koji was positively beaming. “Last night, I asked Abner for help. Since he is a Caretaker, the trees yielded their best fruit to him!”

“An angel who talks to trees?” she asked skeptically.

He blinked and replied, “No, but he understands them. Abner promises that these apples are at their peak. They will make good pies!”

So far, Prissie’s trial pies had turned out so tart, everyone had needed extra ice cream to get their slices down. Grandpa had suggested some varieties of sweeter early apples to add to the mix, but so far, she wasn’t satisfied with the combination. Since the county fair opened tomorrow, and there were just four days left before she and Grandma Nell would be turning in their entries, Prissie was nearly out of time.

“You brought me ripe apples?” she mumbled, finally realizing what Koji’s gift meant. “I can try again, and it’ll be right?”

“Yes!”

Feeling as if it were her birthday instead of her best friend’s, Prissie swung her legs out of bed. “I don’t have to be at Margery’s until noon, so there’s time for one more practice pie. I’ll let you peel apples if you’d like.”

Koji stood and said, “I will start!”


Prissie frowned as she pushed around the bottles of spices in the cupboard. “Cloves, nutmeg, ginger, allspice, where’s the cinnamon?” Spotting a jar of coriander, she uncapped it and gave an experimental sniff, curious if it really was manna-flavored.

“What is wrong?” Koji asked from his station at the cutting board. A neat pile of apple peelings had been pushed aside for the chickens, and he’d moved on to quartering and paring.

With a huff, Prissie stalked to the refrigerator, where a magnetized grocery list hung. Sure enough, right at the bottom her father had written cinnamon in neat block print. “We’re out of cinnamon!”

“Is it necessary?” he inquired.

“You can’t make apple pie without cinnamon,” she declared moodily.

“Can we get some from your grandmother?” Koji suggested.

“I guess,” Prissie sighed. But then the candy jar on the mantle caught her eye, and she had a flash of inspiration. Maybe since this was just a practice pie, it would be okay to improvise a little. “Wait! I have an idea.”

Poking through the contents of the footed carnival glass dish, she extracted the cinnamon candies she’d purchased the other day. “Five left.”

“What?” Koji asked, coming over to see what she was doing.

She showed him the red-wrapped sweets. “If I mix these in …?”

He unwrapped one and his eyes sparkled. “They are the right color.”

“And the right flavor,” she said with decisive finality. “Let’s find a way to smash them into smaller pieces.”

After some scrounging around, Prissie dropped the unwrapped candies into a plastic freezer bag, which they took out onto the back porch so they wouldn’t wake the rest of the household once they applied the force of a meat-tenderizing mallet.

By the time Prissie’s older brothers dragged themselves into the kitchen, her improvised pie was in the oven and beginning to smell good. Neil took a deep breath of spice-scented air and exulted, “I love fair time!”

“That’s because you’re a glutton,” Prissie accused the sixteen-year-old, who still wore plaid pajama pants and a wrinkled T-shirt.

“I’m a growing boy!” he protested, yawning hugely as he poured himself a glass of milk.

Tad ambled through the kitchen door already dressed for the outdoors. “Mornin’, Priss, Koji,” he said as he relieved his brother of the milk jug.

Neil crouched down to look through the oven window. “How long before this one’s ready? I’ll taste-test!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she retorted. “We’re not cutting into my pie until tonight.”

The blond teen shrugged and addressed the baking pie through the glass. “Then I guess I’ll be seeing you later!”


All decked out in the red and white sundress that reminded her pleasantly of Adin and his matching summer suit, Prissie turned in at the Burke residence. Margery lived in one of the big, stone homes in West Edinton’s historical district, just four blocks from the bakery. It was an impressive house that felt important, and Prissie was pleased to have been invited there so often over the years — pajama parties, tea parties, birthday parties.

She and Margery had been cohorts since their first day of preschool, when people had said they made such a cute pair. They were both blonde, and they’d both been wearing pink hair ribbons. In the realm of four-year-olds, it had been enough to forge the bonds of friendship.

Prissie hugged a small, wrapped package to her chest as she climbed the steps to the front door, whose beveled glass windows offered fleeting glimpses of rainbows. Pressing the doorbell, she heard a faint chime sound inside.

“Prissie, darling!” exclaimed Mrs. Burke as she opened the door wide. “It’s been too long! How are you?”

“Very well, thank you,” she replied politely.

Margery’s mother beckoned for her to enter, then smoothly plucked the wrapped gift from her hands and placed it next to the others on the hall table. “Luncheon will be served in ten minutes. The other girls are upstairs in Margery’s room. You remember the way?”

“Yes, Mrs. Burke,” Prissie said with a smile, then began to climb the elegantly curved staircase that dominated their front hall.

She trailed her hand on the banister as she daydreamed about living in the lap of luxury. Margery only had one sibling, a four-year-old brother named Gavin, so even though the Burkes’ house was bigger than the Pomeroy’s, there was barely enough family to occupy it. Wide open rooms were filled with tasteful decorations and so much quiet; Prissie thought this was what heaven must be like.

From Margery’s bedroom came the sound of squeals and giggles, and she peeked through the open doorway. “Prissie!” called her best friend, who was sitting on the floor, leaning against her bed. “You made it!”

“Happy birthday,” she replied brightly.

She and Margery may have been a matched set back in preschool, but as they’d grown up, differences made themselves apparent. All the Pomeroys were tall, but Margery took after her petite mother. While Prissie preferred to keep the same style, her friend was always trying new looks. At the moment, Margery’s blonde hair was teased into a tumble of chin-length curls, and her light green eyes sparkled with excitement. “We were just talking about the class lists! This is the first year Elise will be with us!”

Prissie blinked in surprise. Somehow, in all the excitement, she’d forgotten to check the roll. “We’re together again?” she asked, pleased even if she was the last to know.

“Like always!” piped Jennifer, whose deeply tanned skin suggested that much of her annual summer trip to visit relatives on the coast had been spent on the beach. “They wouldn’t dare split us up!”

“I hate how you have to spend the whole summer not knowing for sure, though,” April interjected. She was the resident expert on all things now — television, movies, and especially Facebook and YouTube. Her sleek, mouse-brown hair was bobbed, and her baby bangs formed a straight line over the rectangular frames of her glasses. Very little escaped the notice of her sharp gray eyes. “The risk of separation looms for weeks on end!”

“I think it’s indecent, the way they keep vital information a secret until the end of summer,” haughtily interjected the one girl in the room Prissie didn’t know. Her coloring was dramatic — porcelain pale skin and stark black hair. Hazel eyes were rimmed with a deep purple liner that matched her lace-trimmed leggings, and Prissie’s first impression was one of envy.

Margery made the introductions. “This is Elise Hanson. Her family moved in next door during the middle of summer! Elise, this is Prissie Pomeroy.”

Elise was flopped on the four-poster bed, reading over Margery’s shoulder as she flipped through a magazine. She quirked a light brown eyebrow, and Prissie realized with a jolt that she must color her hair. Elise returned Prissie’s assessing look—top to toe and back again — before giving her a mocking little smile. “Hey.”

Bristling defensively, Prissie coolly replied, “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Her family runs the bakery on Main Street,” Margery supplied.

Narrowing her eyes, Elise said, “Now I remember! I’ve seen you around. Your family adopted that Asian kid, am I right?”

“Koji is an international exchange student,” Prissie primly corrected, not liking Elise’s tone.

“Whatever,” the girl replied dismissively, turning her attention back to the magazine.

“So what have you been doing all summer?” interjected April, and the conversation swerved into familiar territory. Prissie joined Jennifer on the padded bench. Since kindergarten, the four of them always caught up during Margery’s birthday festivities, trading secrets and making plans for the upcoming school year. However, the addition of Elise felt a bit awkward.

At first, Prissie thought Margery was just going out of her way to make sure that Elise was included, but before long she realized that the flow of conversation centered around the new girl.

April and Jennifer were obviously comfortable with Elise. In fact, Prissie was beginning to feel completely out of the loop. April made a saucy remark about pizza delivery boys that sent everyone else into gales of laughter. When Jennifer noticed Prissie’s look of confusion, she giggled and said, “Sorry, guess you had to be there.”

As Margery laughed herself silly, a coldness settled in the pit of Prissie’s stomach. While she’d been stuck at home, working in the garden and helping Grandma with the canning, an outsider had swooped in and stolen her best friend.


When Mrs. Burke called them downstairs for the luncheon, everyone oohed and aahed over the decorations. Margery’s mother was what Momma called a crafty person, and she always put a lot of effort into her daughter’s parties. Cold chicken salad and fussy fruit tartlets were served with fizzy lemonade, and Prissie thought everything was perfect, until they were interrupted by the slap of bare feet on wood floors. Margery’s little brother Gavin tore around the table, roaring like a lion and making faces at his sister’s guests.

Mrs. Burke hurriedly chased him out, lightly saying, “Boys will be boys!”

“Ugh! I hate brothers!” exclaimed Margery indignantly.

“Tell me about it! They are such freaks,” growled Elise.

April smiled mischievously. “Poor Prissie, she has five!”

“Five!” Elise snickered. “That’s almost indecent!”

Prissie wasn’t sure if the girl was talking about the number of boys or the number of kids in their family. “Hang on a sec,” Elise demanded, looking at Prissie with new interest.

“Pomeroy? Is Neil your brother?”

Prissie’s unease doubled. She’d had to deal with plenty of girls who wanted to get close to her in order to find out more about her brothers. She offered a sharp, “Yes,” and snapped her mouth shut, her eyes sparking warnings.

Thankfully, Mrs. Burke chose that moment to sweep back into the room. “Ready for cake, girls?”

Once they’d been served, Prissie spoke into the lull. “The fair starts tomorrow. What day do you want to meet up?”

“No thanks! County fairs are so lame,” scoffed Elise.

Jennifer and April exchanged an uncertain glance, and Jennifer said, “Ours is pretty good.”

“Yeah, if you like cows and kiddie rides and pickles and stuff,” Elise said, sounding supremely bored.

Margery had the grace to look embarrassed; she knew just how involved the Pomeroy family was in the fair every year. Prissie stared fixedly at her plate, too stunned by the girl’s rudeness to find words for her indignation. How dare she?

“The music is worth it,” April cautiously interjected. “Free concerts from local bands all day long.”

“And there’s a midway with rides … and fireworks,” Jennifer added. “Everybody goes at least once.”

Prissie was grateful her friends were defending their fair, but she wished it didn’t sound as if they were apologizing for liking it. She glanced toward Margery, but her best friend was suddenly fascinated with the floral pattern edging her plate.

Elise seemed to decide it was wisest to adjust her stance. With the air of a person making allowances for people who didn’t know better, she offhandedly said, “What the heck. Might as well give it a try since I’m stuck out here.”


When the time came to open presents, Prissie nervously clasped her hands in her lap. For Margery’s gift, she’d settled on something she’d found hanging in the window at Harken’s. The angelic shopkeeper had called it a suncatcher, and it certainly caught Prissie’s eye, for the blue glass diamond looked as if it had been plucked from her bedroom window at home. It was set in a kind of frame studded with clear glass marbles in shades ranging from blue to green—her best friend’s favorites. Since Margery knew about Prissie’s fascination with stained glass from the many sleepovers that had been hosted at the Pomeroys, Prissie thought her friend would understand.

Margery lifted the lid on the box, and when she folded back the tissue paper, her eyebrows arched. Seeking Prissie’s gaze, she teasingly asked, “Not an angel?”

It was a friendly jibe, and a smile flickered across Prissie’s lips. She just shrugged and watched with bated breath as Margery lifted her present for the rest to see.

“Oooh! So pretty!” enthused Jennifer.

“Let me see!” exclaimed April, and Margery held the suncatcher up to the light. She smiled at it as it spun, and Prissie’s relief buoyed her mood … right up until Margery opened her last gift.

The elaborate package coordinated with the decorations, making it obvious that the box was from her parents. Margery’s eyes sparkled with an eager expectation that made Prissie wonder if she’d been promised something specific for her fifteenth birthday. The wrappings fell away, and her squeal of delight was soon taken up by April, then Elise and Jennifer. “What is it?” Prissie asked, craning her neck to see.

“A cell phone!” Margery exclaimed, clasping the wee bit of technology to her heart, then holding it at arm’s length to give it an adoring look. “Finally! Thanks, Mom!”

“Who will you call?” quizzed Elise.

Jennifer bounced and said, “Me first!”

“Only if I get her first text,” bargained April, a true haggler.

“Okay,” Margery giggled. “Let me get your numbers entered.”

Everyone dipped into pockets and purses and produced cells of their own. Margery’s new number was exchanged, photos were taken, and the conversation zipped along, leaving her in the proverbial dust. She idly poked at the icing roses left on her plate and tried to imagine her mother’s reaction if she said she wanted a cell phone. Laughter was pretty high on the list of possibilities, just under flat-out refusal.

With a soft sigh, Prissie quietly announced, “Be right back.”

Jennifer was too busy comparing features with Margery to notice, and April was focused on quizzing Mrs. Burke about texting or tweeting or something. Only Elise glanced up from her cell phone. Did she smirk? Prissie wasn’t sure, but she just kept walking.

Bypassing the powder room, Prissie snuck toward one of her favorite places in the house. Mrs. Burke called it the solarium, which Momma said was just a fancy name for a sunroom. It was airy and bright with a high ceiling, yellow walls, and plant stands in front of every one of the tall windows — like window boxes on the inside of the house.

Duchess, a regal, long-haired feline with a flat nose and orange eyes, flicked her plumed tail as Prissie tiptoed closer and offered her fingertips to be sniffed. “You’re very different from Tansy,” she murmured softly. “She’s just an ordinary barn cat.” Duchess stood, stretched, leaped from her perch, then stalked out of the room, leaving Prissie alone. The snub stung more than it should have, and she had to take deep breaths to keep from dissolving into angry tears.

It looked as though her best friend wasn’t anymore. Sitting on the floor, Prissie hugged her knees tight to her chest and tried to ignore the stifling sense of dejection. She didn’t like feeling like an outsider in a place she had always belonged. Groaning softly, she hid her face and wished she could get away. They’d probably never notice she was gone.

For now, all she could do was get through whatever was left of the afternoon with her dignity intact. But how? Prissie was concentrating so hard that she nearly jumped out of her skin when the doorbell rang. Turning her head, she listened curiously as Mrs. Burke exchanged a few words with someone on the front porch. A moment later, the woman’s voice carried through the house. “Prissie, your escort’s here!”

Mystified, Prissie slipped out of the solarium and hurried toward the front hall just as Margery and the other girls poked their heads out of the dining room.

There on the front step, with his hands clasped before him, stood Koji. He leaned forward just enough to peep past Mrs. Burke, avidly studying the ornate chandelier that hung above the curving staircase. As soon as Prissie came into view, he straightened and beamed at her. “I came to get you.”

They’d made no such arrangement, but she was glad for the out. Flashing an apologetic smile, she said, “I need to go. I’ll see you guys soon.” She nodded to Mrs. Burke and said, “Everything was beautiful. Thank you for having me.” Not stopping to introduce Koji to her friends, she escaped out the front door, which closed on the sound of curious whispers.

Prissie marched down the cobblestone walk, back rigid. Once they reached the street, she asked, “Is anything wrong?” Koji solemnly searched her face as if unsure how to answer, so she tried again. “Why did you come? Is something wrong at home?”

“No,” he quickly assured. “All is well. Why are you distressed, Prissie?”

She was so hurt and angry, she didn’t need any more urging to unburden her heart. As they walked slowly toward the bakery, Prissie told him about all the little slights she’d endured and her fears where Margery was concerned. “I’m her best friend!” she ranted. “How could she do this?”

“If she is truly your friend, she will not abandon you,” Koji offered.

“I think she already has,” Prissie replied sourly.

Koji gazed at her raptly, and Prissie turned her face from his curiosity. There were times when a person didn’t want to be analyzed. However, when he spoke, it wasn’t to pry. “There are many who have known great distress and loneliness because of the faithlessness of one they called friend.”

“I guess,” she murmured. She couldn’t argue with that, but it didn’t really make her feel any better. She kicked at a pebble on the sidewalk and wondered why life was so unfair.

“Prissie?” Koji asked tentatively. When she looked his way, he stopped and so did she. “I cannot promise that I will not fail, or that I can be here for always, but while I am here, I will be your friend.”

“While you’re here?” she asked curiously. “Where else would you be?”

“Wherever I am sent.” He smiled tentatively and asked, “Is that not enough?”

For right now, it was, and Prissie nodded gratefully. “It’s almost like you knew I needed to get out of there,” she remarked with a weak laugh.

“Yes,” he replied solemnly.

Prissie looked at him keenly. “Why are you here?”

“I was sent.”

“Who sent you?”

“Can you not guess?” he asked cryptically, and began walking again.

She looked over her shoulder uncomfortably and asked, “My guardian angel?”

He shook his head. “There was no need to relay messages from one angel to another. He who dwells in you said you needed me, so I am here.”

Prissie was amazed that Koji could say it as simply as that, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “God told you to pick me up early?” she asked incredulously.

“Yes.”

“That was nice of him,” she mumbled.

“Indeed.”


Dinner that night almost made up for the afternoon’s drama.

“Oh, man! This is actually good!” Neil moaned, an expression of ecstasy on his face.

“You sound surprised,” Tad remarked blandly.

“You aren’t?” he challenged, shaking his fork at his brother before digging in again.

“Nope.”

Zeke squinted at his serving of pie. “Isn’t this one of Grandma’s pies?”

“No, buddy. This is your sister’s handiwork,” corrected Jayce.

“But it’s just as good as your grandma’s,” declared Grandpa Pete, giving Prissie a wink.

“Yeah, it’s actually edible,” commented Beau around a mouthful. Prissie wrinkled her nose at him, and he blinked innocently. “What? It is!”

Naomi Pomeroy smiled approvingly. “It’s delicious, sweetheart! Is this your recipe for the contest?”

“I was thinking … maybe?” she replied, a little flustered by all the compliments.

“Oh, definitely,” retorted Grandma Nell in no-nonsense tones. “The flavor is outstanding!”

“Its a winner,” mumbled Neil. “Something’s different about it.”

Jayce held up his plate to inspect his wedge of pie, whose filling had a definite cast of pink. “Good color, good flavor,” he mused aloud. Catching his daughter’s eye, he added, “I hope you can replicate this!”

Prissie flushed with pleasure over her father’s compliment. “Yes, I’m sure I can.”

Neil leaned over to steal a forkful off of Tad’s plate, but his older brother fended him off with a swift elbow to the ribs. Instead, Neil turned to Jude and attempted to wheedle an extra taste off of the six-year-old’s plate. “C’mon, Judicious, please?”

The youngest Pomeroy smiled sweetly but answered, “No way!”

Prissie couldn’t recall a single time when something she’d made had been such a big hit. Her brows slowly lifted as her brothers fought over her cooking, and she began to smile, a little giddy over her first real success in the kitchen. Wanting to share her happiness with someone, she glanced at Koji, whose plate was already licked clean. The young angel, who’d been picking up human gestures from her little brothers, cheerfully gave her a thumbs up.